An Artful Lady
by Halcris
Summary: Bodie has a new lady-friend, but she doesn't like his partner. I wonder why ?


**An Artful La**dy.

As Doyle walked towards the door of C.I.5's Headquarters building, he heard footsteps pounding up behind him. Bodie swept past him, opened the door and ushered him in with a courtly bow.

"You're in a good mood," commented Doyle, with a smile at his team-mate.. "What is it ? A new lady ?."

"How did you guess that ?," exclaimed Bodie.

Doyle just grinned.

"You're right though," Bodie admitted. "Her name's Lisa, and that's all I'm telling you at the moment."

Knowing his partner as well as he did, Doyle didn't take offence at this caginess. He and Bodie worked together well as a team, but their social life was their own business. Although they occasionally went on double dates, they didn't live in each other's pockets, nor did they want to.

They hurried up the stairs, knocked, and entered their boss's office. Cowley was standing by his desk, reading one of the reports which landed on his desk on a daily basis, and kept him well informed.

Something caught his eye, and annoyed him. He flicked the paper angrily. Then, in answer to the enquiring look on the waiting men's faces, explained. "Would you believe it ?," he said. "We've got another Mortinelli brother on our patch, one Roberto Mortinelli, no less !."

"What's his line ?," asked Bodie. "Pietro was drugs, and Arturo, guns. What's his speciality ?."

"Hasn't got one, apparently," replied Cowley. "A very wealthy respectable business man, owns a string of flourishing vineyards, and a well-established wine production line. He'll have Mafia connections, of course, they all have, but he has never been known to be actively involved. A widower, lost his wife 5 years ago, no children.

"Maybe he's been sent to 'baby-sit' Benjy, now that Ralph's in prison," Doyle suggested.

"We'll keep an eye on him," said Cowley dismissively, and went on to discuss other items, before sending this team out on a new stake-out.

"I think this is worth our interest," he began, ignoring their dismayed looks. "It's this garage in Haringey. On the surface, their regular repairs business seems to be legitimate, but I've had reports that some very expensive cars have been seen there, but very briefly. They are seen there one night, and have gone next morning."  
"Stolen to order, for export ?," suggested Bodie.

"Possibly," agreed Cowley. "Anyway go there and check them out for a bit."

The pair hurried off to make a few enquiries, not with any great enthusiasm. Stake-outs were usually long-drawn out affairs, very boring, and only rarely of real use. As Cowley had said, the daytime activity at the garage seemed routine, so they searched about for a vantage point to set up somewhere for evening and night observation, and were fortunate enough to find an empty top floor room in a nearby office block.

Both took a break in the afternoon to try to catch a few hours sleep before embarking on an all-night session. Doyle was better at this than Bodie, having learnt the knack during his police service years. But later in the day both turned up ready for their watch, and settled down to see if there was going to be anything interesting.

To pass the time, Bodie decided to open up, and tell his partner more about his new lady-friend. "Her name's Lisa Romano," he began, "She's Italian. She's only been over here a couple of months so she doesn't know many people yet.. Not your type, Ray, but you will be interested in her job – she's an art courier."

This did cause Doyle to swing his gaze momentarily away from the garage forecourt. "An art courier?," he queried, "What's that ?."

"She takes clients on package holidays specifically to visit well-known art galleries," he explained. "She did it in Italy, taking groups to Milan and Florence. Now the firm has brought her over here to take parties further afield. She's already done one trip to Paris, and one to Madrid, and there are some in the offing planned for Barcelona and Amsterdam, and even some place in Russia, a museum with a strange name."

"The Hermitage ?," queried Doyle, interested now.

"Yes, that's it," replied Bodie, "Trust you to know that."

"Where does she live ?," asked Doyle idly, his attention back on the garage he was watching.

"She's got a flat in Chelsea," said Bodie.

That brought his friend's head round sharply again. "Chelsea !," he exclaimed. "That's too rich for you, Bodie."

"It's the firm's flat," explained Bodie, "And she gets it at a reduced rent."

Doyle returned to his observation, and all was quiet for a while. Suddenly he stiffened and nudged his mate, who had almost dozed off.

"Look," he said urgently. "There's a Ferrari just pulled onto the garage forecourt."

Bodie jumped up to join him, peering out into the dark night.

Although the garage itself was closed, there was still a light in the office, and a man emerged from there, and began to talk to the driver.

"Can you get the number, quick," said Doyle.

Bodie snatched up the night-glasses, focussed them quickly, and reeled off the number. Doyle activated his radio-phone and called in to base. "Check this number against the stolen car list, fast," he ordered.

There was only a short delay. Then a reply came back telling him that the number wasn't on the list. As he closed the phone, they saw the car pull gently away, and the man go back into the office.

"False alarm," suggested Bodie, and Doyle nodded

"Well it wasn't 'hot'," he said, in a somewhat disappointed tone, "Maybe he was just asking for directions."

The rest of the night passed without incident. They handed over to a day team, and went home for a shower, a meal and a rest. Then they met up again to report to Cowley. He greeted them with a scowl.

"It seems you messed up last night," he began, adding a grudging afterthought, "Though I suppose it wasn't your fault."

Both men looked puzzled, so he went on to explain.

"That Ferrari was stolen," he said. "Its owner had walked to a friend's party so that he could drink as much as he wanted. In the end, he stayed overnight and walked back home this morning. So he didn't find the car had gone till then, so it's not long been reported."

"Shall we go and question the man who talked to the driver ?," suggested Doyle.

"Not yet," ordered Cowley firmly. "We'll continue to watch until another chance comes along. We need to catch them in the act, to follow to see where the cars go." This made sense, so the pair, annoyed at the chance they'd missed, had to accept it. The watching went on, but fortunately the work was delegated to less senior teams.

It was at this time that Doyle first met Lisa Romano. It was not planned. It just happened that on that particular evening both men had decided to take their date to the same little bistro, one of their favourite eating-places. Once greetings were exchanged and introductions made, it seemed natural that all four should sit down together, especially as the place was rather busy. But the evening did not go well. Being interested in art, Doyle tried to engage Lisa in conversation about her art trips, but received only barely polite monosyllabic replies to his questions, and not the enthusiastic response he had expected. So the meeting ended rather quickly, and soon after they had finished eating, both pairs rose to go on elsewhere, but separately.

It was as he was paying his bill at the desk, that Doyle saw something odd.

Lisa, clinging to Bodie's arm, was standing not far behind him.

Glancing in the large mirror above the counter, he caught the look she was directing at him. It was malevolent in the extreme, a look of pure hate !Although he gave no sign, he was rather shaken. What had he done to deserve that ? It was only the first time they had met, and he'd been polite and friendly, hadn't he ? What had upset her ? Surely not questions about her job ? Most people in her position would have been eager to talk about it, he would have thought.

Bodie hadn't seen the look, but he had noticed her attitude during the meal, and when they were alone, ventured to remonstrate with her. "You weren't very nice to Ray," he said questioningly, "He really is interested in art, you know." Lisa just shrugged and didn't answer him. And as she put herself out to be extra nice to him for the rest of the evening, he didn't pursue the matter.

The following day, Doyle, who been delayed by traffic, was hurrying up the stairs at headquarters. He met his partner on the way down.

"Hi, Ray," said his mate cheerfully, "I'm off to Epping. Some kids found some guns buried in a wood, and they might be some of that batch missing from Woolwich."

"Interesting," said Doyle, and turned to go down again with his partner, but Bodie put out an arm and stopped him.

"Not you, sunshine," he said, "The boss has something else for you. He's waiting, so you better get a move on."

A little surprised, Doyle shot up the stairs two at a time, and tapped on Cowley's office door. He was called in, half expecting to be admonished for being late. But it didn't happen. His boss was standing by his desk, studying the contents of a folder. He handed Doyle a photograph.

"Remember him ?," he asked.

"Yes," replied Doyle instantly. "A Dutchman, as I recall, Van Houten. Took a shot at me once when I tried to follow him."

"That's it," said Cowley. He had known Doyle would remember. "A man of very dubious activities in the world of stolen art treasures."

"He went back to Amsterdam in a hurry, didn't he ?," asked Doyle.

"Yes," said Cowley, "but he's back in London again, apparently working legitimately as the manager of a small art gallery in Ealing."

"What's our interest in him ?" enquired Doyle curiously.

"In a few days time," Cowley went on, "there's a very big Art Exhibition in Barcelona. We have had good information, that some of the exhibits there are ones that he has been interested in for some time."

"And you think he may go after them," said Doyle, following his boss's line of thought.

"It's possible," agreed Cowley. "What I want you to do, is to go round as many travel agents as you can, to see if he's booked to go there. Tickets for it aren't easy to get."

"He might use a false name," mused Doyle, "so the picture should be a lot of help."

Interested in his task, he hurried off to begin it. As he climbed into his car and set off, it occurred to him that he would probably meet Bodie's lady-friend, Lisa, somewhere along the way. He didn't recall hearing the name of the firm she worked for, but felt certain it would be on the list somewhere. The first few places he tried produced no results, as they weren't doing trips to that particular venue. It was too expensive a package for the smaller firms to take on. The next one was, but it was purely an exclusive private school trip, involving a lecturer and six senior students.

Then he came to one with a very imposing-looking frontage. He entered and was greeted by an affable gentleman, who responded quickly to his question.

"Yes, sir," he said, "We do have a tour to that particular venue."

He moved towards the open door to another office. "Miss Romano," he called, "Will you please bring the file on the Barcelona Art Exhibition trip."

A moment later, Lisa Romano appeared, carrying a large red file, and looking very smart in a dark suit, with a crisp white blouse, and her luxuriant dark hair neatly ordered in a chignon. As she came towards them, Doyle flashed his ready smile, but, to his great surprise, she completely blanked him, showing not the slightest flicker of recognition. Somewhat taken aback, he said nothing, but turned his attention to the file she had placed on the desk, and was opening up.

"I'm looking for a man on his own," he said, "This man," and he showed her the photograph

"I don't think he's with us, then," said Lisa coldly. "We have three married couples, two pairs of students from the Art College, and the last two places are for an older man and his school-girl grand-daughter." She pushed the details forward for him to verify.

Doyle thanked her and the pleasant manager and left, wondering to himself what was wrong with the girl that was making her so unfriendly. But he had work to do, so he put it out of his mind and concentrated on his task. The next place was no help, as they only did organised trips in the United Kingdom, but when he entered the next one on his list, he 'struck gold'. As soon as he showed the picture to the girl behind the desk, she recognised it.

"Oh, yes," she said, "That's Mr. Hayden, he booked his place yesterday."

Then she looked concerned "Is there a problem ?," she asked anxiously.

"Oh, no," said Doyle, and added mendaciously. "It's just some friends in Paris who are planning to meet him there. They've lost his phone number, and wanted to be sure he'd booked."

The girl looked very relieved. This expensive trip was a new venture for this small firm, and she had been worried that there was something wrong.

Doyle hurried back to base, and reported to Cowley, telling him the name of this particular travel agency, and the false name Van Houten was using on this trip.

"What do we do now, sir ?," Doyle asked.

"We do nothing," replied Cowley. "All the details will be passed on to the Barcelona police, and then it's up to them to keep an eye on him."

He shot a questioning look at Doyle. "Unless you've a desire for revenge for him shooting you ?," he asked.

"Me, no !," exclaimed Doyle instantly. "I always think revenge is a destructive thing. It does most harm to the person obsessed by it."

Cowley nodded in agreement. It was the answer he had expected. Doyle was a thinker, an idealist, and, in a small way, a bit of a psychologist too.

The next day Bodie and Doyle were together again, on an enquiry that would take them right over to the south side of London. They took Bodie's car, and he wove his way steadily through the traffic.

"Missed you yesterday, sunshine," he said cheerfully. "What were you up to ?"

It wasn't a secret, so Doyle told him. "I was going round travel agents," he replied, "Trying to find out if a certain dodgy art dealer was going to this big show in Barcelona."

"Oh, Lisa's on that one," said Bodie. "Did you see her ?."

"Yes," admitted Doyle carefully. "I did call at her place, but they couldn't help me. He wasn't in her party. But I did find him a couple of calls later."

Later in the week, when Bodie had taken Lisa out for the evening, she told him that in a couple of days she would be away on the trip to Spain. That made him remember, and he asked her point blank.

"You didn't tell me you'd seen Doyle," he said.

"Why did he come after me, asking questions ?," she said crossly.

"He wasn't questioning you, silly," protested Bodie. "He was looking for a particular man, part of our job sometimes."

She didn't look at all placated.

"You don't like Ray, do you ?," said Bodie. "Why ? He's all right."

"He looks at me," she said angrily.

"I expect he does," said Bodie. "Most men would, Lisa. You're very beautiful, and he isn't blind."

Lisa shrugged and turned away. Bodie stared at her. He couldn't understand why she had taken against his friend like this. Ray might well admire her, for she was striking-looking, but there was no way he'd ever attempt to muscle in on a mate's lady-friend.

A day or so later, as Doyle popped into the canteen for a quick coffee, he was met by a colleague, Ben Wilton.

"Doyle," the man said, "I was hoping I'd run into you. I've got something I think you'll like.

He was busy fishing in his pockets."I've been trailing a nasty American about, And quite by accident I spotted this. I know you keep an eye on the Mortinelli's, so I thought you'd be interested."

He found what he was searching for, pulled it out, and handed Doyle a photograph.

"Who'd have thought it !," he said with a grin, "Benjy with a lady-friend, and a real 'looker' at that."

Doyle stared at the photograph which showed Benjy, and a dark-haired girl clinging to his arm.

"Perhaps she was just speaking to him," he said at last. "They are both Italian, after all."

"Why, do you know her ?," asked Ben in surprise.

"Yes," replied Doyle. "Lisa Romano. She's Bodie's latest girl."

"Oh, oh," said Ben, with a look of dismay. "That's awkward !."

"Why ?," demanded Doyle.

"Well, when she kissed him good-bye, it was pretty friendly," said Ben, looking a little shame-faced.

They parted company then. Doyle tucked the photo away, and drank his coffee thoughtfully. I'll have to put that somewhere safe, he thought, so that I don't let Bodie see it by accident. He was in a bit of a quandary about it. The photo was clear enough. _Benjy knew Lisa_. How much of the rest of it was true, he wasn't so sure. Ben had thought it such a joke that Benjy had a girl-friend that he might have exaggerated.

There was no immediate need to do anything, as Lisa was now away on her Barcelona trip, and wouldn't be back for a few days. And very soon after that, according to Bodie, she would be away again to Amsterdam. But he made a resolution to himself that as soon as she was back, he would step up his watch on Benjy.

He did venture a tentative enquiry to Cowley. "Anything new on the Mortinelli's, sir ?," he asked.

"No," replied his boss. He looked at Doyle questioningly. "Should there be ?"

"Not that I know of," said Doyle quickly. "It's just that we're so used to them being up to something, it's odd to find one who isn't."

"Aye, that's true," agreed Cowley. "But Roberto has been very circumspect. He's only left the house twice since he's been here. He went to the Cosetti Club, where lots of foreign business-men seem to meet up. Just talked to a few people, no-one special. We'll keep tabs on him, of course, but I think we've more pressing things to deal with."

"Yes, sir," replied Doyle meekly, as Bodie joined them.

"This garage stake-out," said Cowley. "It hasn't worked, has it ?."

"No, sir," admitted Bodie. "There's been nothing since that one car we saw."

"Hm," said Cowley thoughtfully, "I'm still getting regular reports of stolen cars. So either my tip-off was false, or they somehow 'sussed' it, and have moved elsewhere."

"That's quite likely," agreed both his men. It still rankled with them, that they'd missed the one chance there had been.

"Of course," continued Cowley, "Stolen cars is really a police matter. But I thought the information I had been given might just let us get onto it quicker."

His listeners smiled to themselves. They knew very well how much it secretly pleased their boss when C.I.5 managed to deal with something before the police got anywhere with it.

"We'll leave it for now," he reluctantly decided. "Close that stake-out down, and let's concentrate on something more promising."

And for the next few days the pair were kept busy on several different projects. They broke up a nasty protection ring that had started to terrorise some shop-keepers on a new estate. Bodie enjoyed that one, as he led his group, for they encountered resistance which had to be dealt with physically.

Then they managed to remove some nasty dealers and pushers from a rather dreary housing estate. This wasn't so much fun, for they knew very well that as fast as they cleared away some, others would move in to take their place. The one redeeming feature of that job was that they managed to get a couple of young addicts into a 're-hab' unit. If they had been caught early enough they might well be helped to quit.

When he learned from Bodie that Lisa was back from her Amsterdam trip, Doyle decided it was time to renew his watch on Benjy. He said nothing of this to his partner, of course. He had hidden the photo safely in a book in his locker.

He'd primed one of his informants to let him know if Benjy left the Mortinelli security-guarded grounds, and the very next evening got a call from him. He told him which way the man was headed, and as Doyle knew Benjy's car, it didn't take him long to get on his trail. It led him to a rather exclusive little Italian restaurant. He watched as Benjy found a space, parked his car, and walked towards the nearby entrance door.

As soon as he had disappeared inside, Doyle whipped into the car park, and found himself a space as far away from Benjy's car as he could. Then he strolled up to the door. Benjy wasn't in the foyer. He evidently gone right in to the main room, so Doyle decided it was safe for him to enter. He didn't want Benjy to spot him, of course, but he was curious to see who he was meeting.

The manager approached him with an enquiring look. Doyle drew him to one side. He produced his I.D. card, and explained quietly to the man that he wouldn't cause any trouble. He was just following a suspect, and wanted to see who he was meeting. Re-assured, the manager guided him into an alcove and showed him a large two-way mirror, designed expressly so that he could keep an eye on his patrons without them realising thanked him and took up his position. It took him a while to find where Benjy was sitting, as he was half-obscured by a pillar, but he could see very clearly who was sitting opposite him. Lisa Romano, as he had half-expected.! He stood and watched as their meal was served to them. He was glad he had already eaten. The food looked good, and he resolved to himself that if he got the chance, he might try this place sometime.

Lisa tackled her meal with enthusiasm, but poor Benjy did not. He seemed very upset, and only toyed with what was on his plate.

Lisa seemed to be constantly talking fiercely at him, and he was vainly trying to protest. Several times Doyle could lip-read him attempting to say 'No', but Lisa was bullying him and repeatedly over-riding his protests. Doyle almost began to feel sorry for him.

They declined dessert, and settled for a coffee. Doyle watched carefully, ready to make a quick exit when they stood up to go. Then something more significant happened.

Lisa opened her handbag, and produced a small packet. She held it out to Benjy. He shook his head fiercely and refused to take it. She said something very crossly to him and tried again. But still he avoided accepting the packet.

Clearly exasperated, she stood up, reached over and thrust it into the breast pocket of his jacket. Then before he could snatch it out and give it back to her, she gathered her bag, thrust the bill into his hand, and marched off towards the foyer.

He had perforce, to follow her, but Doyle didn't see that bit as he had made a quick retreat, out of the door, and round a corner of the building. But from this vantage point, he did see Lisa storm out of the building, charge over to her car, and leave the car-park in a dangerously rapid rush.

He also saw Benjy, delayed by having to pay the bill, come out of the door, and stand there for a moment, looking decidedly upset and bemused.

I wonder what it was she gave him, thought Doyle. A small packet, might be drugs. But then Benjy wasn't a 'user'. If he had wanted to be, he could easily have become one, for the drugs empire his father had run was still flourishing, being handled by the men he'd employed before his retirement

On an impulse, he decided he would find out. One of the tricks that C.I 5 had taught him was how to 'plant' drugs on someone when necessary. With his agile slim fingers he was good at it. But the knack could be used in reverse.

As Benjy turned and started towards where his car was parked, Doyle emerged from his hiding-place, and 'accidentally' bumped into him, almost knocking him over. As he steadied the startled man, and dusted him down, his nimble hands did their work.

"Why, Benjy !," he exclaimed. "Fancy meeting you here. Is this place any good.? I thought I might give it a try."

After his meeting with Lisa, and knowing what she'd landed him with, Benjy couldn't wait to get away. mm"Yes, Mr. Doyle," he gabbled. "It's very nice. Do go in. They're not full." And brushing rather rudely past, he hurried over to his car, and made haste to get away.

Doyle watched him go, and then walked over to his own car.

But unknown to Doyle, his hadn't been the only eyes watching Benjy.

Lisa had lied to Bodie when she said she didn't know anybody in London. As soon as she had arrived, she had made contact with some men who had worked for her father, and had hired them to work for her.

Two pretty tough characters, Bates and Sadler by name, they had made many enquiries for her, and she had learned much that she wanted to know.

This had brought about her 'accidental' meeting with Bodie, and her subsequent encouragement of his attentions, to further her plans.

Her other attempt at contact had been less successful. Roberto Mortinelli had refused her repeated phone calls, and had instructed his security-gate men never to admit her.

So instead she had turned her attention to Benjy. She had quickly realised how weak-willed he was, and had bullied him unmercifully. In spite of his protests that his uncle declared he wanted nothing to do with her, she had made him do as she wanted and carry the small packet she had forced onto him back to his uncle.

But to be sure that he did so, she had instructed her men to keep an eye on him. So their car had also been sitting in the restaurant car-park.

They had seen her come out and drive off. She had left them a number they were to call as soon as they had seen Benjy go back into the Mortinelli home. They had watched as Benjy had come out too, hesitated, and then with obvious reluctance, get in his car and drive off. They had also noticed how he had had a clumsy encounter with a man who had bumped into him.

They had started up the car ready to follow Benjy, when the man in question walked by in front of their car, clearly on his way back to his own vehicle.

Bates, who was at the wheel, took no notice, but Sadler did. He grabbed his mate's arm. "Did you see who that was ?," he demanded excitedly. "It was Doyle, and he's C.I.5, isn't he ?."

Both men knew very well who Doyle was. They had had encounters with him and his partner more than once.

"Hang on a minute," said Bates, alarm all over his face. "Was it him that bumped into Benjy ?." Sadler nodded.

"Then it wasn't an accident," declared Bates, "You know what's happened, don't you ?, He's 'fingered' the stupid clot. He's nicked Lisa's packet !."

"What do we do now ?," said Sadler.

"Follow him and get it back," said Bates decidedly, his eye on the bronze car backing out of a space further along.

Doyle had lingered long enough to have a quick look in the little packet he had so neatly taken from Benjy. He gave a low whistle of surprise at its contents. Folded neatly between layers of cotton-wool lay a dozen sparkling stones ! He was no expert, but he had no doubt that these were top quality diamonds. He tucked them away and started the car. He must get back to base as fast as possible, to tell Cowley.

As he went he pondered about it. How had Lisa come by such things ? Then he remembered she had just got back from Amsterdam. Was that significant ? Then there was Benjy. He had evidently been co-opted to take them somewhere.

Back to his uncle, maybe. Was Roberto Mortinelli not as innocent as he seemed ? Was he 'fencing' them for her ?

As the restaurant, not one he'd visited before, was some way out, he had a fair way to go to get back to base, but it wasn't long before he realised he was not alone. There was a big black car close behind him and coming on at a fair pace. He quickened his own speed, but the following vehicle kept up with him and then gradually began to creep up alongside.

They were in a residential area, but an affluent one, with large houses set back in opulent grounds.

The big black car was now alongside, and began to side-swipe him, trying to push him off the road. With walls and high fences lining the area, there was nowhere for him to go. He tried every avoiding action he could think of but nothing worked. The black car was bigger and heavier than his.

At last, with a final push, it sent him up onto the pavement. He tried hard to turn back onto the road, but couldn't make it. Two large stone gateposts loomed before him, and he hit the furthest one with a resounding crash, crumpling the bonnet in front of him.

Momentarily stunned by the crash, he couldn't think straight for a moment, but was quickly roused by two things. He could feel that his arm was bleeding, cut no doubt by flying glass. But the other was more urgent, - the smell of petrol ! He had to get out quick in case of fire.

He tried to open the door. It wouldn't move ! Quickly he shuffled across to try the offside door, and found it opened easily. He moved over and climbed out. As he stood up, he could see the black car. It had passed him, but now it had been backed up and was blocking the exit.

Two men were climbing out of it. Then the light of a street lamp showed him something else, The glint of metal ! The men were armed.

He turned to look the other way. The drive was lined with a shrubbery of sparse bushes and beyond that there seemed to be, on the left-hand side, a small wood. If he made it to the shelter of that, he could probably hold them off. Surely the noise of the crash must have attracted some attention in the nearby houses, and soon there would be more people on the scene.

He started to make a run for it, only to find he was hampered by a leg that wouldn't obey him properly. But he pushed on as fast as he could, though he was stumbling too slowly. He'd almost made it to the shelter of the trees, when there was a sudden crack !

A fierce pain in his thigh brought him tumbling to the ground. In seconds, the two men were upon him. He tried valiantly to put up some resistance, but it was in vain. And then a blow from the butt end of a pistol finished the unequal fight, and he knew no more.

Salter, the bigger of the two men, who'd once been a boxer, heaved the limp form over his shoulder, and the two men hurried back to the car. He pushed his victim into the back, and followed him in, as Bates climbed in the front, and started up the engine. The black car sped away, and only just in time, as lights were coming on in nearby houses, bolts were being drawn, and owners were beginning to emerge from lighted porches and doorways.

Bates pushed the heavy car to its limits and they were soon well away from the scene. Sadler spoke over his shoulder. "Slow down," he warned. "We don't want to get stopped for speeding."  
"Too right," agreed Bates and dropped his speed. "What do we do now ?."

"Find a phone-box," ordered Salter. "We've got to let Lisa know."

A few minutes later, Bates drew up beside a phone-box in a quiet street. As he made to get out, his confederate stopped him. "Hang on a minute," he said, "Just let me check we were right about him nicking the packet." It only took him a few minutes to rifle through Doyle's pockets and bring the little packet to light.

"Go and phone Lisa," he said, "and ask her what we should do now."

Salter kept an eye on his prisoner as Bates went to the phone-box to phone Lisa. It was quite a long conversation. He saw his mate flinch a couple of times and wondered if he was getting the rough edge of Lisa's tongue. She had quite a temper, he knew, just like her late father. At last he came back, and clambered back into the driver's seat, turning round to talk to Slater.

"Phew," he said, pulling a face. "She was pretty mad. I had to remind her that we'd actually done the best thing under the circumstances, and she calmed down a bit. She asked if we had somewhere we could hide Doyle for a bit, till she could come and deal with him. I suggested the cellar of that old mill not far from us. It's secure and nobody ever goes near the place. So we've to dump him there, bring her the packet, and wait for more instructions."

Salter looked at the small packet in his hand. He was tempted to investigate, to see what was in there, but decided against it, fearing Lisa's temper. "At least we got this back for her," he said. "I bet that little twerp, Benjy, doesn't even know he's lost it."

Actually, he was wrong about that. As he had neared home, Benjy had felt in his pocket and discovered his loss. The shock made him swerve suddenly and he had almost crashed his car, but managed to pull it to a halt safely. He was in a panic. Lisa would kill him ! What should he do ? After a while he calmed down and tried to think more clearly. Then, making what was for him, a momentous decision, he re-started his car and continued on his way home. He would tell his uncle Roberto the whole truth and let him advise him.

Bodie tapped on Cowley's office door, and was called in. His boss was on the phone, listening intently to the caller, so Bodie waited patiently. At last the call ended and Cowley replaced the receiver.

Bodie glanced at his watch. "Doyle's a bit late this morning," he commented.

Cowley gave him a very straight look. "He crashed his car last night," he stated baldly.

Bodie was instantly concerned. "Is he hurt ? Where is he ?," he demanded. Cowley held up a hand to stop the flow of questions.

"That's just it," he said. "The car was found but he wasn't in it." That call I just had was from the police. They've done a hospital check but they haven't found him."

They were interrupted by a girl bringing Cowley a sheet of paper, which he looked at quickly.

"I've sent our men there," said Cowley, "but this is the police report." He handed the paper to Bodie who scanned it avidly.

"It says there was blood in the car," he said worriedly. "But this area," he added with a puzzled look. "It's a posh residential area, isn't it ? What on earth was he doing there ?"

"Was he working on something ?," asked Cowley.

"Maybe," replied Bodie thoughtfully. "I invited him to go out for a drink last night, but he refused. Said he had something to do, but he didn't tell me what."

"I've sent Murphy over to his flat," said Cowley. He fished in a drawer and pulled out a key which he handed to Bodie

"This is the master key to the lockers," he said. "Go down and see if there's anything there to tell us what he was onto."

Bodie stared at his boss as he took the key. "I didn't know you had that," he said with a perturbed look, remembering some of the things that were kept in those lockers.

"There's a lot you don't know, laddie," replied Cowley, with a grim smile.

Bodie hurried down to the locker room. Doyle's locker was neat and tidy, containing mainly sports clothes. But he did find one thing which surprised him, the photo hidden in the book. He quickly took it back upstairs and showed it to Cowley.

"Well," said Cowley, giving it only a quick glance. "Benjy Mortinelli with a lady. Interesting but hardly significant."

"But, sir," protested Bodie. "That's Lisa Romano, a girl I've been dating for weeks. She's never told me she knows Benjy." Cowley took a closer look.

"And another thing," said Bodie in an agitated tone, "She hates Doyle. I don't know why."

Cowley was astute enough to realise that what Bodie needed now was something to be doing.

"Go and have a look at the car, and the area yourself," he ordered, "and call Murphy on the way. See if he's found anything."

Bodie hurried off to see what he could do.

Cowley watched him go with a worried look. Blood in the car, and no sign of Doyle anywhere, seemed to him a bit ominous. Obviously something had happened to Doyle. How serious was it ?

Doyle came back to his senses slowly. When he tried tentatively to move, pain shot through him, from more that one source. He kept still and tried to remember what had happened. It came back to him quickly. He taken that packet from Benjy, but he'd evidently been seen doing it, he guessed. And the men in the big black car had been quick to come after him to get it back. They had made him crash his car, and when he'd tried to escape, he'd been shot.

He looked about him. He couldn't see very much to begin with, but as he focused, he realised there was a little light coming in from a small window high in the wall opposite him. It was growing stronger. He carefully pushed back the blood-soaked cuff of his jacket to look at his watch. As he registered the time, he thought to himself, that's' 'dawn's early light' I'm seeing. Then he quickly pulled himself up. If he was quoting poetry he must be light-headed. He let his fingers tentatively explore the wound in his leg. His jeans were wet with blood. That's it, he thought. I'm weak through loss of blood.

He could now see a little more. The rough stone walls and the hard concrete floor beneath him suggested a cellar of some sort. He turned his head to the right. There appeared to be a heavy wooden door there. I suppose I ought to try that, he thought. He tried once more to get up, but subsided again as pain shot through him. I expect it's locked anyway, he reasoned as he gave up the idea.

With his one serviceable hand he tried his jacket pockets, but found nothing. They had all been emptied. He lay still for a while, trying to recover a bit of his strength, Time dragged wearily, but after a while he was able to pull himself up to sit with his back against the wall. He felt better sitting up than he had lying down, but soon realised that he was powerless to do any more. He hadn't the strength to attempt to escape, so he would have to rely on the faint hope that he would be diligently searched for, and might be found before it was too late.

Bodie had been to the crash site. He came back grim-faced and rather silent. The two things he had been able to add to the police report were disturbing. First he had heard that a couple of ladies had said that they thought they'd heard a shot, soon after the noise of the crash had woken them. Then he and Murphy had ventured a little further up the drive, and had found a dark patch which they were sure was more blood. He let Murphy tell all this to Cowley, who listened intently. Then unable to control his thoughts any further, he let forth a flood of fierce words.

"I don't think he crashed," he declared. "I think he was forced off the road by someone in another car. He tried to get away towards that little wood, but he was shot. The police have searched the wood and all the area round about but found no trace. They've evidently taken him from the scene, but where ? And we haven't the slightest clue who or why ! We don't even know if he's still alive !."

Cowley listened impassively to this outburst. Unfortunately what Bodie had said was all too true and he understood his frustration. When it was over, he spoke as calmly as he could.

"Sit down, Bodie," he ordered, "and let us all think quietly."

He watched as Bodie reluctantly obeyed and sank onto a chair with a scowl.

"Can either of you think of anything he was working on ?," he asked. Both men shook their heads.

Then suddenly there was an interruption. The phone rang. Cowley sat down at his desk, and lifted the receiver.

"There's an urgent call, sir," came the voice of the girl on the switchboard. "A Mr. Mortinelli is very anxious to speak to you."

Cowley was very surprised, but quickly told the girl to put the call through. As she did so, he activated the switch that made the call audible to his two listening men.

"Mr. Cowley ?," came a polite cultured voice. "My name is Roberto Mortinelli. I am very anxious to speak to you."

"Certainly, Mr. Mortinelli," replied Cowley. "How can I help you ?."

"I think perhaps I can help you," the voice continued. "My nephew, Benjy came home late yesterday evening in a state of great distress. He has things he wishes to tell you, but he is in an almost hysterical state of fear and absolutely refuses to leave the house. Could you possibly come to talk to him here ? It concerns one of your men, I think, someone called Doyle."

The atmosphere in Cowley's office had suddenly become electrified ! Bodie and Murphy were on the edge of their seats listening avidly to every word.

Cowley made a quick decision. "We'll be at your gates in twenty minutes," he declared.

"Thank you so much," said Mortinelli. "I'll tell the gate-men to be ready." Bodie and Murphy were on their feet, eagerness in every line.

"A word before we go, Bodie," said Cowley firmly. "We do this my way ! I know at the moment your instinct is to jump on Benjy till he tells all he knows, but unless I have your word that you'll hold your temper and follow my lead, I won't take you." His steady eyes held his man till Bodie finally accepted and nodded compliance.

Cowley delayed only long enough to leave a few instructions, then led his men to the doorway where his car was waiting. Wilson, a long-time driver for Cowley, hid his surprise well when told their destination, and quickly tooled the big car out onto the road. As they pulled up towards the big security-gates that protected the Mortinelli house and grounds, these were already being opened, and with barely a halt they swept up the drive and pulled up before the imposing mansion that was the Mortinelli home. A man was waiting on the front steps.

"This way, gentlemen," he greeted them politely, and led them through the hall and into the spacious elegant lounge.

A tall, rather portly grey-haired gentleman rose to greet them. "I am so glad you came," he said simply. "It is most urgent, I think."

He ushered them to seats, wasted no time and launched straight into what he wanted to say. "I am Roberto Mortinelli," he began. "I came here just a couple of months ago, to look after the house and Benjy. But he is not my only relative in this country. I knew Lisa Romano was working here. But I last saw her as a small child, for I have been estranged from her father for more than twenty years. But no sooner had I arrived that she began to pester me. I have refused her phone calls and instructed my men not to admit her. I want nothing to do with her."

The friendly face that had greeted them had become stern and unforgiving.

"But now I have found, to my dismay, that she has been trying to get to me through my poor nephew Benjy."

He turned to the seat close beside his own, where they had already observed Benjy huddling. "Come now, Benjy," he said coaxingly, laying a hand on the cowering man's shoulder. "Sit up, and tell Mr. Cowley just what you told me. I'm sure he's just waiting to listen."

Encouraged by his uncle's support, Benjy endeavoured to pull himself together, and sat up.

"Lisa contacted me a month ago," he began. "She met me in the street one day, and made me listen to her. She wanted me to ask Uncle Roberto to meet her to discuss some business. She wanted him to help her. I told him and he flatly said 'No'. She arranged to meet me again for dinner at a little Italian restaurant. I went and tried hard to tell her that Uncle Roberto wouldn't help, but she wouldn't listen. In the end she forced a little packet onto me. Told me I had to take it to my uncle, and tell him he had to sell the contents for her. She said she had men watching, and if I didn't take it straight home, they would be after me. She threatened me ! " His voice rose as the fear he was experiencing returned.

His uncle was quick to re-assure him. "You're perfectly safe here, Benjy," he said, "I won't let her hurt you. But tell Mr. Cowley the next bit, It is the most important, I think."

Benjy took a deep breath and went on. "I came out of the door and began to walk to my car. I was very worried about the packet she'd pushed into my pocket. And then I met Mr. Doyle.! I was a bit surprised to see him there, but he bumped into me, literally bumped into me."

Bodie and Murphy exchanged looks. Quick on the uptake, they had already guessed what this meant.

"I hurried to my car and set off for home." continued Benjy. "I decided I would tell my uncle and ask him what to do. And then I found I'd lost the package ! I was so scared ! Lisa would be so angry. I came straight home and told Uncle Roberto. And he got me to tell you."

"You were right to do so," said his uncle, putting an arm round his still scared nephew.

"We're very glad you did," said Cowley trying, by talking gently, to calm this timid man who was evidently scared to death of Lisa Romano.

"Now, these men she told you about," he said, Do you know who they are ?."

An odd look passed over Roberto Mortinelli's face, and he interrupted. "One moment, please, Mr. Cowley," he exclaimed agitatedly. "Is it possible you do not know ? Lisa Romano uses her mother's name for business, but she is a Mortinelli. She is Arturo Mortinelli's daughter, and as evil and ruthless as he was !"

All three C.I.5 men looked astounded. This was indeed a revelation !

Bodie could contain himself no longer. "She hates Ray," he exclaimed. "She'll kill him !"

"She thinks he killed her father," volunteered Benjy, a little braver now.

"I bet those men who were watching you went after Ray," said Bodie, assessing the truth very quickly.

Cowley had been thinking fast "Then these men she threatened you with must be men her father knew. Do you know who they are ?"

Benjy shook his head. "No" he replied weakly.

"But I do !," declared Bodie. "Probably Bates and Sadler. They drove the lorry and unloaded the guns. But when Arturo was killed, it was decided it wasn't worth going after them. They were only hired hands."

He jumped to his feet, eager for action. "I'm pretty sure I know where to find them, sir," he said.

Cowley and Murphy stood up too.

"I am indebted to you," said Cowley, addressing Roberto who had also risen.

Mortinelli interrupted him. "We are a very large family, sir," he said. "My regret is that you seem to have met the worst of us, Arturo and his daughter. My brother Pietro told me much about you. He had the greatest respect for you, sir, as do I now that we have met."He extended his hand, and Cowley shook it.

"I do not think we will meet again," said Mortinelli. "My task now is to take Benjy in hand. He is weak and easily dominated, I'm afraid. But I am trying to teach him about the wine trade in the hope I might find him a place in my firm."

He walked with the C.I.5 men towards the door.

"I hope you recover your man safely," he said, "and deal with that evil girl."

As they emerged from the doorway, Wilson started the car, and they were soon bowling down the long drive and out through the huge gates.

Cowley was already thinking ahead, planning and issuing orders. "Bodie, get a back-up team, and go after Bates and Sadler. Remember we need them alive to tell us where Doyle is."

"I will, sir." replied Bodie. Now that he had something to do, he had regained control, and was calmly making his plans, once more the efficient agent.

Cowley glanced at his watch. "Miss Romano should be at work," he said, "so Murphy and I will go there."

He noted the dark look that came into Bodie's eyes at the mention of the girl's name, but was pleased to see that Bodie was now quite calm, and made no comment.

Once they were back at Headquarters, the plans were swiftly implemented. As instructed, Bodie picked up his own car, added another with a back-up group, and set off to find Bates and Sadler. He'd had no trouble finding men to go with him. Once they knew they were after men who might have harmed Doyle, they were as eager as he to get on with it.

The manager of the travel agency moved forward to greet the two men who had entered. A distinguished-looking older man, closely followed by a dark-haired suave younger man, they looked like potential customers.

"Can I help you ?," he asked politely. He was a little surprised when they asked to speak to Miss Romano, but he turned to the back office and summoned her through.

Then he was totally astounded as the men produced official-looking cards, 'arrested' Miss Romano, and escorted her to the big car waiting outside.

They returned quickly to base and ushered their prisoner into an interview room. As they pointed her to a chair, she began to realise how much trouble she was in.

"Can I go to the toilet ?," she asked suddenly

"If you must," replied Cowley, "But you won't need your handbag, will you ?."

He reached out and grabbed it from her. Cowley knew from experience how many people, caught in possession, tried desperately to get rid of the evidence by flushing it away. He often wondered about the state of London's sewers and its inhabitants. Did rats get 'high' on discarded drugs ?. Or were they too quickly diluted ?

He didn't think that Lisa was carrying drugs, but he did want to know what was in the packet that Doyle had evidently taken from Benjy. He guessed that she had set her men to recover it. Was she still holding it ?

He started to turn out the contents of the bag. Lisa reached forward to try to grab it back from him, but Murphy's firm hand on her shoulder pushed her back in her seat.

They were in luck. Lisa had got the packet back, and because she didn't know about Benjy's confession, she didn't know that C.I.5 were onto her. So she had felt no call to hide it. Indeed, in her arrogance, she had been planning to get at Benjy again, to force him to deliver it as she had originally planned.

Opening a zipped pocket inside the bag, Cowley was delighted to find what he had been looking for. But he was surprised when he opened the little packet, and revealed the sparkling contents.

Diamonds !

Was Lisa smuggling in diamonds ? Where had she got these from ? Then he remembered hearing that she had just returned from Amsterdam.

There would have to be some serious investigations ! And mainly by the Dutch police, he thought. He would put that in hand as soon as he could.

But he had another more important question needing an answer. "Miss Romano," he demanded. "Where is Doyle ?

An evil expression came over her face. "I don't know and I don't care," she snapped. "I hope my men have killed him. He killed my father."

This brought protests from both the listening men.

"No he didn't," declared Murphy hotly. "I was there. He nearly shot Doyle before someone got him."

"Miss Romano," declared Cowley, "C.I.5 killed your father. He was resisting arrest when caught in the act of selling arms to terrorists."

Lisa made no reply to this, beyond a fierce scowl which marred her normally beautiful face,

"And he'd nearly killed Doyle and Bodie too," added Murphy vehemently.

Bodie had made a quick check in records and had found the address for Sadler, so he and his team lost no time in speeding to that area. It was on the third floor of a block of council flats. They parked their car and pounded up the stairs.

Bodie hammered on the door. Taken by surprise, Sadler began to open the door, but as soon as he saw who it was, he slammed it shut again. But it was a vain attempt at escape. Hefty kicks from Bodie and another man made short work of breaking the obstacle down. They charged in after the fleeing man, and managed to grab him just as he was trying to scramble through his kitchen window onto the fire escape.

He was hauled back in and subjected to a barrage of questions. Where was Bates ? What had they done with Doyle ? Had they killed him. ?

Confronted by several very angry men, Sadler was suddenly very scared, but he stubbornly shut his mouth and refused to answer.

Suddenly there was a yell from outside. Bodie dashed out to find one of his men just picking himself up from the floor. Unknown to Bodie, Bates had recently moved, taking a flat a couple of doors further back along this floor. He had heard the commotion as Bodie and the others had broken in to take Sadler. He had waited for the right moment, then had left his flat, knocking over the one man close to his door, and making a bolt for the stairs.

"It was Bates," yelled the man scrambling up, "He's making for the stairs, and his car, I expect."

Bodie was off like a rocket with one man close behind him. Of the others, some were hanging firmly onto Sadler, and some came out of the flat to lean over the balcony wall.

"There he goes !," yelled one, as a flying figure streaked across the car-park, making for the big black car.

Bates was already in and starting the engine, as Bodie emerged from the door below, so he changed direction and dashed towards his own car. The man trying to keep up with him barely managed to scramble in before Bodie was gunning his engine ready to give chase. The two cars shot out of the car-park and disappeared from the view of the watchers.

"Bodie will catch him, never fear," exclaimed one of the others exultantly. "Have you ever driven with him when he's in a hurry ? He drives like the devil is after him." This raised a smile from several of the listening men, who had indeed had this experience.

"What do we do now ?," queried one.

"Wait here till he brings him back," suggested another, "Then one of these villains will tell us where to find Doyle. Won't you ?." he added, glaring at Sadler.

In a perverse way, Bodie was enjoying himself. Although Bates was already speeding, pushing the big black car to its limits, the C.I.5 man, in the lighter faster car was steadily gaining. It would have been easy for the experienced Bodie to close up on Bates and force his vehicle to crash.

But Bodie was desperate to take this man alive, so that he could tell him what had become of his partner, and where to find him. There was a terrible fear in the back of his mind that Bates might only direct him to a body or an impromptu grave. But he thrust that away as firmly as he could, and proceeded to give the younger agent clinging to his seat beside him the lesson of his life in consummate driving skill.

He worked steadily, alternately closing up alongside the black car, then dropping back. A couple of times, Bates almost thought he'd got away from his pursuer, only to find him relentlessly closing in again.

Bodie worked hard, driving his quarry just where he wanted him to go, and eventually he was successful. Bates, now a nervous wreck, suddenly found himself forced into a cul-de-sac. He raced down it, only to find himself confronted by a solid brick wall. He was forced to a halt, rather than risk a head-on crash.

He'd hardly had time to turn the engine off in the already over-heated car, when the door beside him was wrenched open, and he found himself facing an angry-looking man, holding a gun inches from his head.

"Not very nice, is it, being run off the road ?," snarled Bodie. "Is that what you did to Doyle.?."

The scared look on Bates' face told him he'd guessed correctly.

"Did you shoot him, too ?," demanded Bodie fiercely.

"No, not me," babbled the frightened man, "That was Sadler."

Bodie hauled the man out of the car and thrust him into the back of his own vehicle. He handed his gun to the younger man, ordering him in beside Bates.

"Shoot him if he tries anything," he commanded, "but not fatally. He and Sadler have something to tell us."

He turned the car neatly and shot off back the way they had come.

The men watching and waiting outside Sadler's flat, raised a suppressed cheer when they saw the familiar car sweep back in to stop by the entrance to the block of flats. They hurried in to alert those guarding Sadler, so didn't actually see the two agents leave the car, and hustle their prisoner up the stairs.

Sadler's little flat suddenly seemed very crowded. He and Bates were sitting where they had been pushed, onto the low settee, which only served to accentuate the towering look of the group of angry-looking men glaring down on them. They exchanged scared looks as they felt the menace directed towards them. Bates broke first.

"She told us to do it !," he exclaimed, "We had to get back what he'd taken from Benjy."

"So you ran him off the road," said Bodie. "What then ?."

"He tried to run away up the drive," replied Bates, "and Sadler shot him."

"Only in the leg !" protested Sadler, "I didn't kill him."

"Go on," ordered Bodie.

"Well, lights were coming on," said Sadler. "So we grabbed him and left fast."

Now that he'd started talking, Bates was anxious to confess all. "We found the packet on him, so we called Lisa. She said to bring it to her, and to hide Doyle somewhere till she came. She said . . ." He stopped short, too scared to reveal what she'd said in front of these angry-looking men.

Sadler finished it for him. "She said she wanted to kill him herself."

Bodie scowled fiercely at this, while a voice behind him muttered "Bitch."

"So where is he now ?," demanded Bodie.

"In the cellar of the old mill up the road," said both men almost together.

Having finally got the answer he wanted Bodie sprang into action. Half his back-up were directed to take Bates and Sadler into base, and to call for an ambulance on the way. The rest followed him as he set off at a run towards the building they had all noticed earlier. Totally abandoned, it was still a local landmark and was no problem to find.

The two bolts securing the heavy wooded door were quickly pulled back and many hands made light work of dragging the door open.  
Bodie shot in first and hurried across the dusty stone floor to crouch beside the limp figure propped against the wall. His anxious eyes took in the copious dark stains of dried blood, as his fingers reached out to search for a pulse.

"Is he alive ?, came the question from one of his team.

A weak voice answered him."Course I am," said Doyle, opening tired eyes to gaze into Bodie's worried ones. "But I could do with some help."

"On its way, mate," replied a greatly relieved Bodie.

He sent his team outside to keep a watch for the ambulance, and eased himself down to sit beside his friend.

Doyle turned a troubled face towards him. "Bodie," he began tentatively, "I'm very sorry, mate, but it's about Lisa . . ."

"Don't fret yourself," interrupted Bodie. "I know what she's been up to."

And he proceeded to tell Doyle about their visit to the Mortinelli home, and Benjy's confession.

Then he asked curiously, "Do you know what was in the packet ?."

"Yes" replied Doyle, "Some brilliant diamonds."

Bodie let out a low whistle. "I didn't know that," he said. Then he had a sudden thought. "But I bet I know something that you don't. Lisa is a Mortinelli, she's Arturo's daughter !."

Doyle's weary eyes opened wider. "That explains a lot, doesn't it ?," he said. "She probably blames us for her father's death."

"Yes, I expect she does," agreed Bodie, "That's why she was so unfriendly to you."

They were interrupted by the sound of the approaching ambulance, and moments later by the entrance of the efficient ambulance men, who quickly had Doyle tucked up on a stretcher, and whisked away to proper medical care.

An hour or so later, Bodie tapped on Cowley's door and was admitted. He had called in earlier to report that they had found Doyle alive. He had followed to the hospital, and had now come to report to his boss on his partner's condition. Cowley looked questioningly as his man came in, but noted that his expression was relaxed and cheerful

"Doyle's going to be all right," reported Bodie. "He's in St Richards, under Dr. Fenton's care."

Cowley nodded in approval. Dr. Fenton had often treated both his men, and had become a personal friend to them.

"Fenton took a bullet out of his leg," Bodie continued, "and he's got a nasty gash on one arm, but neither injury is that bad. The biggest problem is the amount of blood he lost, but they are dealing with that, and lots of rest will help."

"Good," said Cowley. "And we now have Bates and Sadler safely in custody. And Lisa Romano, of course."

He watched for Bodie's re-action and went on. "I'm afraid you've lost your lady-friend, Bodie," he said.

"I'm not bothered about that," said Bodie airily. "To tell you the truth, I was beginning to go off her. All that arty stuff, you know, it's not for me."

He grinned at his boss. "Besides," he said, "Girl-friends are easy to come by. But she was planning to kill my best friend, and I can't forgive her for that."

Then he added cheerfully, "She might be into diamonds, but I've got a 'diamond' mate, and that's more important. But don't tell him I said that."


End file.
